by E. J. Mellow
I roll my eyes, knowing the conversation we’re about to have. “It’s me, Molly.”
“Hmm, Molly? Oh yes, I know a couple of Mollys. Now tell me, is this the Molly that wants to meet her best friend for some much-needed window shopping, or is this the old-maid Molly that likes to sit in her cramped apartment in day-old pajamas, saying ‘woe is me’ while looking out of her window?”
She knows both of those Mollys very well.
“I think you’ve reached the window-shopping Molly today.” I smile.
Jared shakes his head while putting the dishes in the sink—he’s begun to understand this routine.
“Perfect! Let’s say that Molly meets me downstairs at her building in thirty minutes?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you then.” I hang up and push Jared away from the sink. “You cooked, I clean,” I say, my mood in a much better place than when I first woke up.
Jared wraps his strong arms around my waist and pushes my hair off my shoulders, kissing my skin. It’s hard to concentrate on washing the dishes when he does that. “I would try to seduce you, but what I have in store takes more than thirty minutes,” he says suggestively in my ear. My skin prickles with goose bumps from his warm breath against my neck.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmurs as he turns me around to face him, pulling my soapy hands above my head and pushing them against the cabinet while pinning me to the counter with his hips.
I breathe in deeply as he leans in and gently parts my lips with his. Day-old scruff scratches my skin as he slowly increases his apparent appetite for my mouth. I moan, feeling the desire he creates pool in my body.
Without warning, he pushes away with a devil of a smile.
“That’s for you to catalogue for next time.” He kisses me chastely on the head before walking toward his discarded clothes.
What the…
I follow his movements, still stunned from that sudden, delicious accosting. Narrowing my eyes, I splash water in his direction from the faucet. “You’re the worst!” I yell.
He picks up his leather jacket, shielding himself from my onslaught, and chuckles.
“Watch it—this is designer!” he yells back between laughs.
I splash him harder.
—∞—
It’s a bright, crisp day as Jared and I sit outside on my stoop waiting for Becca. I told him he didn’t have to wait, but he said that nothing could outweigh the importance of spending more time with me. He really knows how to charm a girl.
“Hey there, love bugs.” Becca walks up, looking cute and fresh in her early spring getup. Designer straight-leg jeans fit snugly against her long, lean legs, stopping at her tan ankle boots. She wears a slightly-too-big knit green sweater, which sets off her vibrant apricot hair, and big round tortoiseshell sunglasses sit on her delicate nose. I know the only reason she’s single is because she wants to be.
“Hey.” Jared greets her with a hug.
“I hope you two had an interesting enough night that I’ll be entertained with the details later.”
Jared laughs. “I guess you and I will just have to wait and see.” He places his arm around me as I purse my lips at the two.
“All right, as much as I like looking at you, Jared, it’s time for you to mosey on outta here. Girl time, and stores need us,” Becca mumbles while applying some lip gloss.
Jared shakes his head before turning toward me. “You go back for your checkup on Tuesday, right?” he asks, and I nod. Tuesday is the day Dr. Marshall scheduled me to come in to readminister tests. “So you won’t be returning to work until after you hear what he says?”
“Yeah. He needs to run some tests to see how I’m doing before he gives me the green light.”
“Great, then can we plan to see each other early in the week?”
“Yeah, I think we can manage that.”
“Good.” Jared gives me a quick kiss. “Then I’ll text you later. Have fun depleting your bank accounts, ladies,” he says in jest before heading to his apartment.
“If both of you weren’t so good looking, I’d never put up with being around all that PDA,” Becca says while we make our way toward Bleecker Street.
“Then be thankful that we are.”
“Har har. Soooo, spill! How was the sex?” She leans in, lowering her glasses.
“We didn’t actually have sex.” I wait less than a second to get the immediate response I know is coming.
“WHAAAAAT!?” Two passing women stare at us for a second before returning to their routines, unfazed by random New York pedestrian outbursts. “How could you guys not have sex? Have I taught you nothing?” She’s absolutely appalled.
“It’s not that we didn’t try, but things kept coming up, like you calling me to hang out and not giving us any time in between.” I mockingly glare at her.
“Oh, sweetie, all you had to say was, ‘Becca, I need more time to bone,’ and I would have completely understood.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t know why my sex life is so intriguing to her. Probably because it’s rare and thus makes it more of a scandal for Becca—God knows how she loves a scandal.
“So what did you do last night?” I change gears as we stop in front of a shoe store. Becca leans down, studying a pair of strappy pink pumps.
“I went out for drinks with some of the peeps from work. Wasn’t really that great.”
“Why wasn’t it that great?” We walk to the next store window.
“Todd’s wife was there.”
Oh boy.
With that, the conversation is closed. I don’t know why Becca pursues this guy—she’s so smart and gorgeous. Why muddle yourself up with a married man when you can have any number of attainable men—men that I know have thrown themselves at her? But this conversation was already had, and resulted in a week of the silent treatment from both of us.
Skipping to the next topic.
“Bec, look at this.” I push the cuff to my jean jacket up over my wrist and gently unwrap the thin bandage.
She wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s actually supposed to look like this… Well, in time it was supposed to.”
“Okay.” She wears a so what expression.
“It didn’t look like this yesterday. It was still all red and blistery.”
“That’s great then! Means it’s healing fast.”
“Yes, but don’t you find it weird that it kind of just…healed like this overnight?” I’m trying to bring the abnormality of this situation to light without sounding like a nut.
“I guess…” Becca’s slightly distracted by a cute guy passing by in a soccer uniform who gives her a winning smile. She turns back to me. “But I mean, they have all sorts of crazy new medicine these days. I’m sure Dr. What’s-His-Nuts gave you some of the good stuff.”
“His name is Dr. Marshall, and yeah, that’s what Jared said.” I look at my wrist again. Is it really as easy as that? Maybe I’m making too big of a deal out of it.
“See? Jared knows his shit, so don’t worry about it.” She smiles, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and giving a little squeeze. “I mean, if you’re still weirded out about it, call up the doc.”
“No, you’re right. It’s the medicine—I just thought it was crazy.” I shrug, wrapping my wrist up again. I have no desire to call Dr. Marshall. For some reason he makes me feel weird. He’s always so smiley, too smiley.
“You hungry?” Becca asks, her mind already moving on. “Let’s get something light in this café up ahead.” Holding on to my jacket sleeve, she pulls me forward.
New York has a magical pulse on the first warm days after winter. People come out of their miniature apartments after hibernation, stretching and prancing about, showcasing their still-pale limbs that were wrapped like pigs in a blanket from the cold. People even smile at strangers courteously—a gesture that will evaporate in a few days’ time with the accustomed warmth.
My mother calls while Becca and I sip o
ur coffees and judge some of the new fashion that passes by. I quickly let Mom know I’m fine and getting some fresh air with Becca, apologizing again that she had to call me first.
“The world is really sick.” Becca shoves away the newspaper she’s reading in disgust.
“Why? What’s going on?” I place my phone back in my bag.
“Some teenagers in Europe burned down a bunch of buildings while people were sleeping inside. It’s the third case like this in the past month.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Yeah,” Becca agrees, glancing down at the paper again. We both sit in silence for a second.
“So what do you think? Up for going out tonight?” Becca picks up the last of her muffin and pops it in her mouth. I smile at her vitality.
“Yeah, actually—I don’t think I can spend another night in that studio prison.” I sip my coffee.
“I don’t know why you’re not into moving to Brooklyn like I did. You’d have double the space.”
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t part with Manhattan yet. I just love this neighborhood. It only feels cramped because I’ve practically been in my room night and day.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” she says wryly.
Becca’s been pushing for me to move to Brooklyn ever since she did a year ago. I know it’s mainly because she can’t stand not living in the same neighborhood as me, since we used to be roommates when we first moved to the City.
“All right, so where should we get silly tonight?” she asks with excitement.
“I don’t really care, but I know I shouldn’t get too silly.” I’m not sure if I’m even supposed to be drinking. I should have paid more attention when the nurse was giving me the rundown, but I was just struck by lightning. I think I get a pass for being out of it.
“Yeah, oookay. Will you have some sort of radioactive reaction to alcohol or something?”
I chuckle. “No, I don’t think that was a listed side effect.”
“Good, then it’s a date! Let’s meet at The Wicker Horse, since it’s close to you. I’ve been wanting to check it out, and I hear it has some yummy men on Saturdays.” She rubs her hands together sinfully.
I smile at my crazy friend. This is exactly what I need to relax—forget the last couple of days and definitely forget how lost and confused I’ve been every time I wake up.
I just need to remember not to mix the alcohol with my painkillers.
— 10 —
THERE’S NO LINE when I walk into the bar—a good sign for how the rest of the night will go. I glance around the typical West Village watering hole: distressed wood fills every inch, mixing with modern brushed-metal accents, and the patrons are cast in a flattering light by a soft yellow glow.
I find Becca at a corner cocktail table. “Hey.” I reach over and hug her before sitting down at one of the tall stools.
“Isn’t this place great?” She beams while taking in all the men who are meandering in front of us.
“Yeah, as soon as I saw no line, I was sold. Do you need a refill?” I gesture to her half-empty beer bottle.
“Yeah, but just get me whatever you’re having.”
I walk to the bar and try to make space between two men. They both look like tools to me, so I have no problem trying to flag down the male bartender first, even though they were here before me. I mean, they don’t call us New Yorkers for our manners.
“Hey there, whatcha drinking?” One of the tools with a—yes, I think that is what I’m seeing—popped collar asks me. He has a boyish face and is probably younger than me.
“Alcohol,” I answer pointedly.
“Oooo, Jerry, I think that means she’s not interested.” Tool number two laughs from his side. Jerry mocks a wounded heart by placing his hand over it, grimacing.
“Ya got me good, midnight. Ya got me good.”
“Midnight?” I ask, curious about his strange pet name.
He smiles, his confidence building now that he has obtained my interest. “Just when I saw you with your black silky hair and dark eyes, you reminded me of looking into midnight. A very sexy midnight.” He leans in so I can smell his beer breath. Oh God. I lean back.
“These guys bothering you?” A deep voice resonates from behind me. All three of us turn to take in a very tall, disarmingly built blond man, hands resting casually inside the front pockets of his black jeans. Even in this unthreatening pose, he projects ass-kicking abilities, and my two companions can feel it. I look from one to the other as each takes a step away from me, and I smile up at my savior.
“Not anymore.”
Blondie moves between broken-hearted Jerry and me and leans down on the bar so I don’t have to strain my neck to see him. His skin has a brownish hue, like he is of exotic island descent, and it’s deepened by his golden surfer hair and black attire. His beautiful hazel eyes spark gold in the candlelight, and as he moves closer, I notice his scent of sunshine and night all mixed together—it’s surprisingly pleasant and partly familiar.
“Didn’t mean to intervene where I might not have been needed, but those two didn’t seem like your type.” He flashes me perfect white teeth.
“No, I’m happy that you did, thank you.” I grin. “I stopped being interested in popped collars as soon as I saw them happening.” Blondie laughs warmly, bringing the attention of the second female bartender toward us.
“Can I get something for you?” she asks flirtatiously. He returns her smile with one of his own, and I catch the red glow spread over her cheeks. This guy knows what he’s carrying around.
“Yeah, I’d like a scotch, neat, please, and my friend here will have…” He turns to me.
“Oh, uh, two vodka tonics, please.”
“And two vodka tonics.” The bartender blinks a few times before leaving to make our drinks. “My name is Rae.” He extends his hand, and I can’t help but think how uncannily appropriate his name is.
“Molly.”
His grip is firm and warm. “So, Molly, who’s the second drink for?” he asks, leaning on the bar with one elbow. He looks goofy bent over this much to be eye level with me.
“A friend. She’s sitting over there.” I point in the general direction of our table, where large crowds of people now block it.
He nods in understanding. A protective gleam in his eyes disappears, making me realize it was there in the first place. Is he interested in me?
The bartender comes back and hands all three of the drinks to Rae, telling him they’re on the house. He gives her a wink and thanks her. She blushes deeper and hesitantly turns to the next patron. Rae drops a fifty on the bar anyway. High roller.
“Here you go.” He hands me my drinks.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. It was nice to meet you, Molly. If you ever need saving from popped collars again, just look for the tallest guy in the room.” He flashes his pearly whites before turning around and walking to the other side of the bar.
I guess the answer to my question is: definitely not interested. I’ve never had a man buy me a drink before, let alone two drinks, without ulterior motives.
I return to Becca, who is trying to give a guy the hint that she’s not into him. I push my way between him and her, turning my back to the guy. Becca smiles, relieved, and takes her drink.
“Thanks, that guy didn’t get it.” She sips on the tiny useless straw that always accompanies these kinds of drinks and scans the bar. “So, anyone that you think I’d be into?”
“What? I’m being left out of tonight’s vulturing?”
Becca scoffs. “Molly, you’re with Jared!”
“We haven’t talked about being exclusive. I don’t even know if I want that.” Becca blinks at me like I’ve just sprouted six noses.
“Listen, let me ask you something.” She puts down her drink. “If you found out tomorrow that Jared went out and hooked up with a girl tonight, would you be mad?”
That sentence alone makes me see red.
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“Exactly,” Becca says, seeing my expression. “So you guys are exclusive. I don’t know why you’re so hesitant about him. It’s obvious he’s madly in love with you. But hey, if you’re not into it, I will gladly take him off your hands.” She finishes by tipping her drink my way and scans the bar.
“Oh my, who is that tall glass of sunshine?!” Becca asks. I follow her gaze to Rae standing a couple of tables down, staring in our direction while two girls try desperately to get his attention. When we catch eyes, he smiles and waves. I wave back.
Becca grabs my hand. “Uh, excuse me, miss? You know him?!”
“Hey, careful.” I gently take my arm from her grasp. “This is the one with the burn.”
“Oh, sorry! But wait, you have to explain how you know that beautiful species of a man!”
“Well, maybe we can have him explain.” I nod toward Rae, who is steadily approaching. Becca sits up straighter, flattening her extremely flattering eggplant-colored top, and brings her long hair in front of her shoulders. Is she actually nervous? She’s never nervous around men.
“Hey, Molly. So, this is the recipient of the other drink I bought?” Rae stands at our table, swirling the scotch in his glass while appraising Becca.
“You bought me my drink?” she asks with slight shock.
“Yup, how’s it tasting?” He smiles and moves closer to her, obviously liking what he sees.
“It tastes exactly like a free drink should taste—delicious. I might be in the mood for another.” She flashes him one of her enticing grins. Boy, I hope this guy is ready for her.
“Rae, this is one of my favorite people in the world, Becca.” I start the introduction before I completely lose her to our new acquaintance.
“Pleased to meet you.” Rae takes her outstretched hand and brings it to his lips.
My jaw drops, and Becca glances at me, wide eyed. That’s a lot different than the handshake he gave me. I know in that moment that Becca is a goner for this exotic Prince Charming. She quickly asks him to join us.